


love is a poor man's food

by misskatieleigh



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-03 05:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12741699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh
Summary: He is not allowed to have this, least of all with her.





	love is a poor man's food

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ljparis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ljparis/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Crown and the Shadow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11729715) by [misskatieleigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh), [SassySnowperson (DramaticEntrance)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramaticEntrance/pseuds/SassySnowperson). 



> Canon Divergence - Assumes that there there is a night between when the Rogue One crew return from Eadu and the Council meeting/mission to Scarif.

“I thought we weren’t going to do this,” Leia says, but her hands twisted into his hair say the opposite. Cassian can feel her breathing, the steady rise and fall of her lungs the only thing keeping him from screaming. He’s not sure why he’s here, in her room, when he was the one who said they couldn’t let this happen. It may not matter in the end, what sort of man the princess takes to her bed, but he can’t stand the thought of tarnishing her. He is not allowed to have this, least of all with her.

“We aren’t,” he says, hands settled on the flare of her hips. He’s a failure many times over today; can’t even convince himself that it’s true.

Cassian’s still reeling, from the fight with Jyn on the stolen shuttle, from the rain seeping through the fabric of his coat before that. From the afterimage of a city falling from the sky. He’d fought back against her accusations, but the truth behind them felt written on his skin. He wasn’t sure how many times he could forgive himself for necessary lies. Burying his face against Leia’s stomach, Cassian tries to pull the fraying edges of himself back together. She smells familiar, some faint perfume that probably costs more credits per ounce than he’s ever earned. Leia twists the ends of his hair between her delicate fingers, slips the blunted edge of her thumbnail along the curve of his ear, presses forward into his body as much as she cradles him against her own.

Cassian doesn’t realize he’s crying until she crawls into his lap.

The warm weight of her against his thighs is grounding, forcing him back into reality. Tomorrow there will be a Council meeting, another group of politicians arguing in circles and talking themselves out of action. Tomorrow they will have to make a choice, to decide exactly how far they are willing to go for the sake of the Rebellion, for the freedom of the galaxy. Cassian already knows the answer to that question, he wears it in the blood that he can’t wash from his hands.

Tonight, he wants one good thing.

“Leia,” he whispers, pulling her closer. He touches her cheek as gently as he can, wishing that his hands weren’t so calloused. He doesn’t want to leave marks on her. Slipping lower, Cassian traces the line of her neck with his hand, her heartbeat thundering against his mouth when he dips his head down to follow. Leia sighs, “Cassian” on her lips as she arches into his touch. In some other life, he might rock up against her, bury himself in her body and pretend. It’s just one more luxury stolen from them in the long list of sacrifices.

Cassian pulls back, forces a little distance between them despite the alignment of their hips. “They destroyed Jedha, Leia. Like it was nothing, like all those people were nothing.” He can’t raise his voice above a whisper. The words don’t even feel real coming out of his own mouth and he can see the ground rising up again like a second vision. The Empire devouring everything that stands in it’s path, himself included. “Leia, we have to stop them.”

“I know,” she says, pressing cool hands against his cheeks. She sounds calm, but he can feel the waver in her words, the flash of anger that hides in her eyes. Cassian has always known that he would die for the Rebellion, just as every instinct he has tells him that she will be the one to lead it. If there is any victory out there, Leia will be there to see it done.

“It’s not fair of me, to ask for your comfort,” he starts to say, but Leia cuts him off. There’s a sound of distress threading through her even as she pulls him down to her mouth. He can feel the buzz of it against his lips before her tongue parts them, chasing the sensation and stealing his breath away. Their last kiss is still seared in his memory, anger and passion and hurtful words thrown at each other. In contrast this feels like a stolen moment of peace, just the two of them breathing together, whole and alive.

Leia pulls back, hands moving to tug at the clasps on her dress. “What do you want, Cassian?” she asks, and he knows that she would offer him everything in that moment. He captures her hands, stills them and pulls them to his mouth, pressing his intention into her palms. “No, Leia. I can’t… _we_ can’t. Stars, I just...I’m so tired.”

Leia lets her fingers rest against his temple. There’s something in her expression that makes his heart ache; longing tinged with sadness. She leans forward and kisses the back of his hand, their mouths held apart by clasped palms and a hundred reasons why he should go back to his own room.

“We can just sleep then,” she says, dark eyes staring into his own. It’s stupid and selfish and he can’t bring himself to say no. Cassian nods and helps her climb out of his lap, stripping down to his undershirt and briefs while she disappears to change into her own sleep clothes. This simple domesticity, climbing into bed with someone, tipping the lights down low and gathering unbound hair in his hands, they make him greedy for tomorrow’s that he can’t promise. Cassian folds Leia into his arms, her face against his chest and legs tangled underneath the blankets.

With him out of uniform and her white dress abandoned in the other room, they could be any two people. There are no Captains carrying the dust of Jedha wet by the rains of Eadu. There are no Princesses with high held brows, serene and stately. Just two hearts with beats slowing to matched time, finding comfort in the dark.

\---

In the morning, Cassian wakes to an empty bed. It’s a kindness, that she doesn’t make him say goodbye. He draws his uniform back on, every piece carrying with it the weight of knowledge. It’s a familiar burden, one that settles squarely back onto his shoulders and only draws a little blood. His comm chirps a warning from K-2, a reminder of his duty. He sends his own chirp of acknowledgement back. They won’t discuss where he slept, or the faint perfume clinging to his skin. They will watch the council waver and find a way to get the plans regardless.

The fate of the galaxy depends on it.


End file.
